Choosing Me

I am so tired of giving my peace away. I feel it in my body, in the weight that lives in my shoulders and the tightness in my chest when I think about all the places I tried to belong. For years, I poured myself into people and spaces that could not meet me. I kept adjusting myself to fit. I kept hoping that if I just tried harder, something would finally shift.

I understand now that much of this came from fawning. Not as a flaw, but as a survival response. I learned to say yes to stay connected. I learned to prioritize other people’s comfort over my own safety, my health, my needs. I learned that being agreeable was how I stayed worthy. Saying no felt dangerous. Choosing myself felt like a risk I could not afford.

There is deep grief in seeing how much of myself I gave away while receiving so little in return. I hold that grief gently. I am no longer pretending I do not see it.

Today, I am choosing me.

I am done sitting in spaces that ask me to disappear in order to belong. I am done confusing self-sacrifice with love and friendship. My body has been telling me the truth all along through exhaustion, pain, and the way certain interactions drained me to the bone.

Walking away is not abandonment. It is a reclamation. It is listening to my bodymind and honoring its limits. It is remembering that my worth was never dependent on compliance, usefulness, or endurance.

No one is coming to choose me for me. That is my work to do. Listening when my bodymind says no. Remembering that choosing myself is not selfish. It is an act of liberation and a homecoming.